Truth Will Out
by Holstered .38
Summary: Someone is out to kill a navy lieutenant. Gibbs becomes emotionally involved and learns that she is the second person to be involved in a series of accidents. Can he save her life and solve the case? Please R&R all comments welcome.


Annie Jordan paid for her groceries. It was only sixteen hours since she had disembarked from the HMS Fernandez after it had pulled into dock at Norfolk, Virginia. She had been chatting with Greg, the cashier on the checkout, as it was quiet in the store, about the general gossip of everyday life within their neighbourhood.

"Old Mrs Murphy has got another grandchild. That makes her seventh!"

"Oh, that's wonderful news," Annie replied. "Was it a boy or a girl?"

"A girl. She said they are going to call her Lilly."

"That's a lovely name. I'll call round on her before my leave is over."

"OK, bye Annie."

"Bye, Greg," she called back as she exited the store.

The street was relatively quiet. Annie walked back toward her apartment oblivious to the black sedan bearing down upon her position. She fumbled around in her purse for the keys to her apartment, nearly dropping the brown paper bag loaded with her groceries.

The driver of the sedan gripped the steering wheel firmly and aimed the speeding vehicle directly at the naval lieutenant. Annie turned towards the throaty resonance of the engine as it approached her and attempted to move out of its path. The car struck the uniformed officer with a sinister bone cracking thud and threw her limp body onto the sidewalk like a rag doll being tossed to one side by a bored child.

Annie rolled over and over before coming to stop, face down against the concrete sidewalk. Onlookers gasped in total disbelief. Greg ran from the store, knelt next to Annie's motionless body and reached into her neck to check for a pulse. She was alive, barely.

"Call 911!" he instructed one of the other shop owners who had come out of his store at the commotion. Greg gazed down the street, but the hit and run driver was long gone.

**Chapter 1**

The NCIS field office, Washington, had an unusually relaxed atmosphere that particular morning. Anthony Dinozzo and Timothy McGee had completed their current case load and even written up their reports to Gibbs' satisfaction, even if Tony had had to rewrite his three times to make them legible and coherent. Instead, McGee was writing a computer programme to enable composite sketches to be scanned into the computer and be compared to the current national and international databases of criminals and most wanted felons. Tony, on the other hand, was shooting crumpled memos in to his waste basket.

Gibbs arrived in the office carrying a large carton of his favourite black coffee, and with his other hand scrunched the till receipt into a tiny ball and tossed it at Dinozzo, striking him squarely on the forehead.

"What was that for, boss?" asked Tony.

"For not having anything better to do than throw litter around the bull pen!" retorted Gibbs.

Before Tony could think of a come-back, Gibbs' phone rang. He snatched the phone out of its cradle and listened silently, only ending the one-sided conversation with "We're on it!"

"Dinozzo, gas the truck," Gibbs instructed as he tossed Tony the keys. "McGee, you're with Dinozzo."

"Where are we going, boss?" asked the young agent.

"Someone tried to kill a navy lieutenant in Norfolk, so where do you think?"

"Norfolk?" McGee tested.

"Y'think?" sometimes, Gibbs wondered if it was just him or was it that the younger generation had lost a few of the common sense brain cells in the technological evolution.

"What about you?"

"I'm going to interview our victim, to see if she knows why someone out there wants her dead…"

*****

Gibbs flashed his ID to the nurse at the reception desk and enquired about Lieutenant Jordan's condition and whereabouts.

"She's in room 213, but she's heavily sedated and won't be conscious for at least a few hours."

"I'll wait," Gibbs responded and made his way toward room 213.

The blinds were pulled within the room, casting a darkened contrast to the brightly strip-lighted corridors of the rest of the hospital. Gibbs pulled up a plastic-coated easy chair and sat down to wait for Annie to regain consciousness. The intravenous drip slowly marked time as the contents of the saline filled plastic bag slowly transferred into Annie's arm. The bruising on her face strangely highlighted her beautiful features. Gibbs wondered to himself what colour her eyes were going to be. He gazed at the mass of black hair that flowed across the pristine white cotton pillowcase like an ebony ocean against a Caribbean beach. Something about her appealed to Gibbs as he sat there in silence listening to the bustle of the hospital life continue outside of this tranquil room.

A male nurse entered the room and seemed surprised that Gibbs was waiting at the bedside. "I'm sorry," he apologised. "I didn't realise Miss Jordan had company. I've got to check her obs and administer her meds; if you'd care to wait outside?"

"No, I'll wait here," said Gibbs.

"Ok." The nurse went through the motions of checking the pulse in her wrist and placing a wrap around cuff on her arm to check Annie's blood pressure, but something about him bothered Gibbs.

"What's your name, again?" Gibbs asked.

"William Dawson," replied the nurse as he pushed the plunger of the syringe slowly upward.

Gibbs' gut was in overdrive – something was not right. Then as the empty syringe was extracted from the IV bag, Gibbs realised what it was that his gut had been trying to tell him, the nurse had no identification badge! Gibbs reached back and drew his weapon. "What did you just give her?"

"Something to help her sleep…" Dawson replied innocently.

Gibbs looked across at Annie. She did appear to be sleeping, and then it happened. Her body began to convulse. Gibbs was temporarily distracted by Annie's uncontrolled movements and Dawson took the opportunity to flee the room. Gibbs hit the emergency call button and pulled the IV line from the bag feeding her whatever drug it was that was making her fit. Doctors and nurses began to swarm into the room barring Gibbs' exit after Dawson. By the time he reached the corridor, Dawson was long gone.

"She's pulled out her IV, nurse," one doctor remarked as he administered an anti-convulsant through the canula in her hand. Blood had begun to back flow through the IV line.

"STOP!" Gibbs instructed. "That drip has been contaminated and is now evidence." He lifted the saline solution from the metal stand, dropped it into a plastic evidence bag and sealed the top.

As soon as Annie's condition stabilised, Gibbs reached for his cell.

"I'm sorry," a nurse interrupted, "you can't use that in here. There's a payphone at the end of the hall."

"Dinozzo," said Gibbs after he had rummaged through his pockets for a quarter and dialled his senior field agent's number. "Get over here. Another attempt has been made on our lieutenant's life!" Gibbs didn't wait for a reply; he wanted to make sure no-one was going to attempt to murder Annie Jordan again.

When Dinozzo arrived, Gibbs handed him the bag containing the IV and instructed him to get it to Abby, their forensic specialist, for testing and fingerprint analysis. Gibbs returned to Annie's bedside to wait for her to regain consciousness.

After a couple of hours staring at a motionless body, Gibbs sat forward as he noticed Annie's forefinger twitch. He watched intently as it twitched again. His gaze travelled up her arm to her face and saw that she was trying to open her eyes.

Annie tried to take in her surroundings, her dark brown eyes forcing themselves to focus, but all she could see were blurred unfamiliar shapes and someone standing over her. "No!" she flinched as she panicked, tried to sit up and get off the hospital bed.

Gibbs did his best to reassure her. "It's okay. You're in hospital… My name is Jethro Gibbs – I'm a special agent with NCIS." He placed a hand on her shoulder as he spoke, applying just enough pressure to keep her form ripping her new IV from her arm.

Annie relaxed slightly, but a torrent of questions erupted from her mouth. "What happened? How did I get here? Who are you? What am I doing here?"

"Take it easy," he soothed. "You were involved in an accident."

"A car…It tried to kill me!"

"You saw the car?"

"Only briefly, a black sedan."

"Did you see the driver?" Gibbs asked hopefully.

"No." The disappointment caused her emotions to plummet to a new level of depression.

"We _will_ catch this bastard, trust me…" Gibbs reassured.

"I do, Agent Gibbs. I do."

"Get some rest, I will have an officer sit with you to make sure you are safe, and I will return soon."

"Thank you."

Gibbs rang McGee on the payphone and instructed him to come and sit with Annie whilst he returned to the office for an update."

*****

The noise coming from Abby's lab could be heard before the elevator reached its destination. The decibel level was enough to warrant Gibbs to cover his ears until he was able to reach Abby's stereo and disconnect the power. "Gees Abs, do you have to play that, that 'noise' so loud?"

"Ohh Gibbs, 'Plastic Metal' is supposed to be played loud. You really get a feel for the music when it's at full volume."

"The only feeling it gives me, is a headache! What did you find out from the IV Tony brought in?"

"I ran a full tox-screen on the fluid," Abby explained highlighting her results upon the large plasma screen in her lab. "The solution consisted of saline with a 'kick'."

"What sort of 'kick'?"

"Ketamine! Enough to stop a charging elephant. There were, however, no identifiable fingerprints on the bag."

"No. Our attempted murderer wore gloves, but I did get a look at his face. Do you think you can use your computer to create a composite from my description?"

"Sure."

Abby moved to a computer at a desk and loaded the software. Gibbs sat behind her and to her left so he could see the reconstruction process. Abby could sense Gibbs' anxiety. This case was getting personal.

Gibbs cursed as he tried to recall the details of the face that had tried to kill Annie Jordan.

"Take it easy Gibbs," Abby soothed.

"That bastard," he pointed, "tried to murder someone right under my nose, and I let him get away!"

Gibbs slammed his fist against a metal filing cabinet which subsequently knocked over the rack of test-tubes that stood atop of the steel unit.

"We will get him, Gibbs," she acknowledged as she reached out towards her friend's arm; but he had already turned to leave. His pace showed his determination to catch this man.

The drive back to the hospital allowed Gibbs to release some of his pent-up anger. He gunned the accelerator, the needle on the speedometer arcing around to 160km/h and only falling when other motorists blocked his path. He, somehow, felt calmer by the time he reached the hospital, but it was to be short-lived. As he opened the door to room 213 his anxiety levels rose dramatically once more. The room was empty. Gibbs checked the hall, but there was no sign of Annie or McGee. He checked at the nurse's station and was told that Annie had been taken down for an MRI scan to ensure that there was no swelling of her brain. Gibbs allowed himself a deep breath. Normally, his investigations never became so personal, but something about Annie was different. He wasn't sure if this difference was good or bad, he just knew they would be together when he found out.

It took 20 minutes before McGee returned to the hospital room with Annie. Gibbs was waiting for them in the dim light. An orderly was pushing Annie in a hospital wheelchair, with McGee walking alongside.

"Boss?" McGee greeted with an air of surprise as he entered the darkened room.

"McGee, how is she?"

"I can answer for myself," retorted an indignant Annie.

"Sorry," Gibbs apologised.

"They say I can go home."

"Provided there is someone who'll be with you." McGee interjected. Annie glared at him, that was the part of the doctor/patient conversation she had wanted to omit.

"McGee, go home and get some rest."

"But what about Lieutenant Jordan, boss?"

"I'll stay with her. Go home!" McGee didn't stick around to be told twice.

"So…I've got you to watch over me?" Annie teased coyly.

Gibbs smiled.

Gibbs drove carefully towards Annie's apartment. The conversation in the car, however, was somewhat strained.

"Have you worked for NCIS long, Agent Gibbs?"

"Almost twenty years."

Silence resumed; both occupants feeling decidedly awkward.

Again, Annie felt the urge to begin a conversation. "Do you like pasta?"

"Yes…"

"Would you care to join me this evening for some dinner?"

Gibbs looked uncertainly at her. "That would be very kind of you, but…"

"No buts! I do a bolognaise sauce that would make 'mama' proud…"

"Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?"

"You can't, Agent Gibbs, you can't!"

"Jethro."

"Sorry?"

"Jethro, as opposed to Agent Gibbs."

"Ohh."

Annie's apartment was small, but the clever design and layout of the furniture gave the impression of extra space.

"Please make yourself at home," Annie invited waving Gibbs into the lounge. Gibbs soaked in the apartment's atmosphere. Its clinical lines and modest design gave the place a welcoming ambience. He picked up a photograph of Annie, her arms wrapped around an older man.

"My father," Annie announced as she glanced over Gibbs' right shoulder, making him realise he was actually staring at the photo. He replaced it carefully upon the shelf and was about to walk away when another photo caught his eye. This other snapshot depicted four women of about high-school age.

"Is that you?" he asked pointing to a girl in a UCLA football sweater, her long black hair like ebony against the delicate features of her face.

"Yes," Annie admitted. "We'd just graduated from college. That's Karin," she pointed to a striking brunette whose hair cascaded down in gentle waves to a crisp white short sleeved blouse. "That's Samantha, Sam. She moved to San Diego when her husband got transferred down there."

"He's in the navy?"

"A navigations officer aboard the 'Enterprise'; and that's Michelle…" Annie's voice trailed off and she turned away from the picture, clearly upset.

Gibbs replaced the picture and moved around Annie so that he stood in front of her once more. "Tell me about Michelle," he urged.

Annie lifted her head, her soft brown eyes heavily laden with tears. "She, she was struck by a car in a hit and run!" Realisation suddenly dawned on Annie that her accident and Michelle's death were so similar it couldn't be a coincidence – could it?

Gibbs held her shoulders in his hands and pulled her into his chest as her tears began to flow freely. He gently stroked her hair in an effort to soothe away her pain. It was just what Annie needed.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered.

"Shh, it's alright."

Annie pulled away, uneasy at the intimacy she was allowing herself to experience. Gibbs too, seemed to withdraw back into his professional mode.

"How do you take your coffee?" she asked, trying to alleviate the sudden tension.

"Strong and black."

A few minutes later she brought out two steaming cups of freshly brewed java. "Please, sit down," Annie gestured toward the tanned leather sofa.

As Gibbs sat, the brown sofa seemed to envelope itself around his muscular torso like a piece of ripened fruit immersed in a chocolate fondue. "Tell me some more about yourself," Gibbs encouraged.

"Well, there's not much to tell… I grew up in Seattle and went to college in Boston…"

"Is that where you met Michelle and the others?"

"Kind of, Karin and Sam were in the same college house as us and we just hit it off the first day we all met."

"But Michelle was different?"

"Yeah, she and I had been inseparable since Kindergarten. In third grade, I got into trouble when Anthea Anderson poured red paint into Miss Winters' purse and Michelle backed me up. We still got suspended though, but I think that was more because of the fact we let all the air out of her tyres!"

Gibbs chuckled at Annie's mischievousness. Annie, too, had to laugh at her infantile crime.

Instantly the lights flickered and died leaving the two occupants suddenly sobered in the darkness. Gibbs drew his six-hour and silently indicated that Annie should stick close to him. A pane of glass shattered in the kitchen as a brick hurtled halfway across the room coming to rest after hitting the refrigerator. Gibbs edged his way to the offending projectile.

"What's going on?" Annie asked, fear evident in her voice.

"Not sure, but someone's obviously got something against you – or," he added trying to lighten the situation, "there's a terrible slump in the glazing business and someone out there is trying to drum up some trade!"

Annie looked at him curiously – not certain if he was being serious or not, but Gibbs' cheeky grin left her in no doubt.

They remained crouched down for what seemed like ages, but, in reality, was probably only a few seconds, without further incident. Gibbs took a pair of rubber gloves from his inside vest pocket, stretched them over his hands so that he could handle the brick. A message had been taped to the outside that left Gibbs in no doubt that Annie required a greater level of protection and that it was all linked to what had happened to Michelle the previous week. He just had to find out why….

**Chapter 2**

Abby was still in her lab when Gibbs and Annie arrived with the offending brick sealed in a clear plastic evidence bag.

"Hey Gibbs," she greeted cheerfully. "I thought that you were on protection duty?"

"I am," he replied. "Then someone decided to hurl this brick through one of the apartment windows…"

"Ohh," Abby's jovialness was replaced by a mixture of concern and confusion.

"Abs, I need you to tell me what you can about this brick."

"How soon do you want it, because Special Agent Farrell has got me working on a …." Abby stopped mid-sentence. She could tell simply by Gibbs' face that he wanted them ten minutes ago. "I'll make it a priority," she added.

"Thanks, Abs." Gibbs handed over the brick and escorted Annie back to his office.

Abby read the note, through the plastic bag: 'I WILL KILL YOU' "Wow, someone really doesn't like her…" she said to herself.

Carefully, she removed the brick from the evidence bag and placed it under the ALS unit, hoping to retrieve any trace evidence. With a pair of tweezers, Abby pulled out a small shard of glass, probably from the shattered window through which it had been thrown, but more importantly, the next thing she discovered was a red synthetic fibre, stuck to the tape that held the note in place. Whilst she worked, demonic rock music blasted from stereo speakers mounted on the wall above the sealed unit where she was now attempting to lift any latent fingerprints by way of using super-heated super glue. In its gaseous form, super glue adheres to the trace left behind by the oils and moisture from contact with human skin, in particular fingerprints. The process worked! A partial print was collected, not from the paper or even the tape, but from the smooth underside of the brick. Abby lifted the print and scanned it directly into the computer and began a search through the AFIS database. The computer console flashed numerous latent prints alongside at a dizzying rate, checking for corresponding points of reference and specific characteristics that might identify the owner. Abby watched the screen for a moment as the database flicked through the first hundred possible candidates before she turned her attention to the red fibres.

Upstairs, Gibbs had convinced Annie to get some sleep. She was lying on the floor behind what had been Kate's desk with his jacket draped over her body. Special Agent Caitlin (Kate) Todd had worked with Gibbs for two years after working as a Secret Service agent, guarding the President of the United States, on Air Force One. Now, her desk stood empty, save for the computer, telephone and a desk jotter. A couple of months earlier the team had undertaken a case to prevent a guided missile, directed by an Al Qaeda splinter group, attacking a crowded dock as families awaited the arrival of three naval ships and their crews.

The missile attack was thwarted, but the ring leader, Ari Haswari, never-the-less, took Kate's life by firing a bullet through her skull. Images of that moment still haunted Gibbs and he vowed that one day he would kill that murdering SOB.

Gibbs regained his composure and rang down to Dr Mallard, the chief medical examiner, in the NCIS mortuary.

"Ducky?"

"Ahh Jethro, what can I do for you?"

"I need you to chase up an autopsy report on a Michelle Carlson, died last week in a hit and run."

"That shouldn't be a problem. Do you know who performed the post mortem?"

Gibbs shook his head "No."

"Do you know," Ducky continued. "I went to school with a Dominic Carlson? Strange fellow, used to knit these fantastically long scarves during lectures. He used to say that it helped him to concentrate, but it used to drive the professors potty!"

"Thanks, Duck." Gibbs smiled as he replaced the handset in its cradle. Ducky had this uncanny knack of being able to lift him out of a depressive state without any idea that he was actually doing it.

Gibbs rocked back in his swivel chair and pulled the plastic lid from his carton of coffee before gulping down several mouthfuls of the intense black 'crude' from his favourite coffee house.

His mind began to wander; reliving moments from previous investigations where Kate had featured heavily. From the time she learned how to abseil in the evidence room and their first case back on Air Force One to the time when she and him had to rescue Tony from a deranged illegal alien who had been smuggled in, together with some friends who unfortunately perished during the journey, locked in a container by their navy sweet-hearts. However, the same picture always came back to him in the end; the moment when she dove in front of a bullet meant for him. The Kevlar vest saving her life, only to have it snatched away by an assassin's rifle – a bullet to the brain. Gibbs awoke with a start. Tony was stood next to him, his hand gently shaking his shoulder as he whispered Gibbs' name.

"Boss, are you okay?"

"Tony? What is it?" Gibbs shook his head to clear his thoughts and bring him back to the here and now.

"You need to see this," Tony replied.

"Just give me a minute," Gibbs checked on Annie, who still lay asleep, before continuing to the head to 'freshen-up'.

Tony was downstairs, with Abby, when he returned.

"Hey Gibbs, you look like you've been to an all-night rave!" Abby teased.

Gibbs signed something that was not repeatable in civilised conversation, but Abby understood straight away.

"That sort of language is not nice Gibbs. You should wash your hands out with soap!" Tony watched on in confused fascination.

"Did you bring me down here to have a go at my signing or is there a point to all this?"

"You know how you asked me to dig into Annie's past?" Gibbs gave Tony an impatient stare. "Ok, well at first her background seemed quite normal; raised in Wichita, Kansas until she was four when her parents moved to Seattle. Nothing strange there, so I checked up on those other names you mentioned. Michelle Carlson attended Washington State University, graduated with a masters in chemical engineering. She worked for two years at ChemTech in the development labs. I've got a friend who works over in admin there, long blonde hair and has a wonderful technique for…"

Gibbs gave Tony a swift clip to the back of the head so as to return his attention to the background report. "Sorry boss," he apologised. "Apparently, there were rumours after the hit and run incident, that samples of the PX95, she was working on, had gone missing."

"PX95, what's that? And why wasn't it reported?"

"It's a controversial molecular enzyme that can change the properties of a solid into a more malleable substance or event a liquid!" interjected Abby. "For centuries, scientists have been attempting to modify materials and compounds now it looks like they have produced a chemical that's capable of doing it!"

"It was never reported because the CEO Nathan Hardy denied the chemical ever existed." Tony concluded.

"I think we had better have a word with Mr Hardy, don't you?"

"Hey Gibbs," Abby called as he was about to leave her lab. "The analysis of the brick you brought in last night…"

"Hit me with it Abs," Gibbs smirked.

"Don't you think that would hurt?! Moving on…I found traces of a red fibre stuck to the tape on the brick. Turns out it's from a synthetic tri-strand colour magenta 103 – it's a carpet fibre found only in the Mercedes S-class, manufactured between 2001 and 2003."

Gibbs bent over and kissed Abby on the forehead in appreciation of her hard work. "Good work Abs! You should get some rest. Dinozzo, you're with me."

Ducky was in Gibbs' office, when he returned, talking to Annie about his exploits in Western Sumatra and a tribe of pygmies.

"What's up, Duck?"

"I was telling Annie about the Misanpopo tribe who have an astonishing ability to…"

Gibbs' stare, alone, told the doctor he was rambling. "Sorry," he apologised. "Those case notes you asked for, they are downstairs. I have been over them, and I think there is something you should see."

The autopsy room was empty, save for Ducky's desk which showed evidence of a series of autopsies with x-rays, notes and photographs piled to one side. At the forefront of his desk was a box-file labelled 'Case No. 107962 – Michelle Carlson'. "I've been over the autopsy results. The poor girl was hit by a fast moving vehicle leaving her with massive internal and external trauma."

"Yeah, we know she was involved in a hit and run."

"Ahh, but that was not, what I believe, killed her!"

Gibbs looked curiously at the chief medical examiner. "What?"

"Oh, she was murdered alright, but it wasn't the impact that killed her… According to the tox-screen, she suffered a massive overdose of Ketamine!"

Why was that not mentioned on the death certificate, Ducky?"

"I guess somebody didn't want that to be common knowledge…"

"Murder, you mean?"

Ducky nodded gravely.

The same thought occurred to Gibbs as was concerning the doctor. Whoever murdered Michelle was now after Annie.

*****

McGee was sitting at his desk tapping away at his computer, when Gibbs returned upstairs.

"Where's Annie?" Gibbs asked.

"The bathroom, to freshen up. Boss," McGee called changing the subject. "I've done some digging into Annie's work record. She's been enlisted in the navy for six years and works in the munitions depositary where they are currently housing approximately 500 tonnes of explosives and artillery!"

"Phew! That's a lot of hardware!"

"Do you think it's possible that's the reason someone is after her?"

"It's a theory," Gibbs answered non-committedly. "McGee, fetch the car, we're off to visit Nathan Hardy, over at ChemTech. Apparently, he has a reason for keeping quiet about a certain missing chemical…"

"You're not going anywhere without me!" Annie spoke out from behind Gibbs.

"Gee boss, she does that thing that you do," McGee marvelled in awe.

"Oh, and what's that?"

"You know…" McGee stopped mid-sentence. "I'll fetch the car."

Gibbs smiled; he knew exactly what his colleague meant. Gibbs directed his attention back to Annie, "You'll be safer here."

"But I need to know what's going on – not only for myself but for Michelle and her family too."

Gibbs considered her request for a moment before conceding defeat. "I suppose, if you are with me at least, you shouldn't get into any more trouble." Little did he realise that their troubles were only just beginning…

**Chapter 3**

The tinted glass and metal framework of the ChemTech building stood out like a giant greenhouse against its rural setting. The interior was as stark and clinical as the exterior. Gibbs waited at the reception desk impatiently for the young woman to finish her conversation.

"I'm sorry Chris," the receptionist apologised. "I'm going to have to go now, there is someone here." Non-chalently she hung up on the call and turned her attention to the three people who stood before her.

"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS" announced the silver haired officer, showing his identification and federal badge. "This is Special Agent McGee," he directed at his colleague. "We'd like to see Nathan Hardy."

"Do you have an appointment?" the receptionist enquired autonomously.

"No, but I'm sure that he'll see us, if you tell him it's to do with the PX 95."

The young woman keyed in a few digits on the telephone keypad and waited for the line to connect. "Excuse me sir," she looked up into Gibbs' face and saw the meaningful determination in his eyes. "There are some NCIS agents in reception who'd like to talk with you… Yes sir, but they said it has to do with the PX 95… Yes sir. I'll have Harry escort them to your office." The phone must have been slammed down suddenly as the receptionist grimaced when the conversation ended. She made the three visitors sign in and issued each of them with a temporary security pass before instructing an elderly uniformed security guard to escort the group to the eighth floor and Mr Hardy's office.

In contrast, the CEO's office was lavishly decorated with a modern sculpted desk omnipresent giving the immediate sense of over bearing power to whoever entered the room. Gibbs was not in the slightest impressed by the domineering design, but did marvel at what this 'set-up' must have cost. "Do you think Macy's will have one of these in stock?" Gibbs asked fondling an elaborate erotic sculpture.

"That's a Carlos Benucchi original and is worth over $200,000!" The slick grey-haired, grey suited executive spat.

"I guess not, boss." McGee answered.

Gibbs shrugged and moved closer to Mr Hardy who had now risen from his smart black leather recliner desk-chair. "Mr Nathan Hardy? Special Agents Gibbs and McGee. I've got some questions to ask you about the PX95…" he showed his identification once more.

Hardy squinted as he looked closely at the ID's and badges. "And who is she?" he asked bluntly.

"She's the cat's mother!" retorted Annie, which earned her a harsh look from Hardy and a smile from Gibbs.

"Didn't I say? This is Annie Jordan. She is associated with the case we are currently working on."

"And what case is that, Agent Gibbs?"

"A naval officer's life has been threatened and I believe it has something to do with the PX95 that went missing from your lab."

"Don't be absurd! There is no PX95; and even if there were there is no possible way that any of it could have left the building. Our security measures and restrictions would have prevented any such chemical from being removed."

"Security protocols can be over written," McGee interrupted.

"Or bypassed completely. Greed, blackmail, politics are all very strong motives for flouting the rules," Annie corroborated.

"Well, Agent Gibbs, if any such breach has occurred then you have my word that it will not happen again, and that the culprit will be apprehended and turned into the authorities." Hardy rose from his chair and offered Gibbs his hand as a farewell gesture.

Gibbs accepted, a little less than graciously, as his gut was still undecided about his sincerity. On the way out of the building Annie confronted Gibbs. "You don't honestly believe all that clap-trap he was spouting up there about not knowing about the security breach, do you?"

"Nope!" he answered simply.

From above Nathan Hardy watched from his window and dialled a pre-programmed number using the speed-dial facility on his cell. "We have a containment breach…Can I trust you to contain the situation and instigate the decontamination protocol?...Good. Your fee will be sent to the usual account when the job has been done. Details and locations will arrive by email." He snapped shut his cell sharply to terminate the conversation as he watched the dark blue Stratus pull out of the car park.

Silence was again prominent in the dark blue sedan as Gibbs cruised along the highway back to NCIS headquarters. A black 4x4 Tahoe with tinted windows pulled in behind them causing another vehicle to sound its horn in disapproval. Gibbs studied the vehicle in his rear-view mirror weary of its driver's intentions.

"Well, it looks like we have rattled someone's cage," he commented as he again watched the blacked-out off-roader manoeuvre as it kept pace with his own car. McGee looked over his shoulder and Annie followed suit. The result was a tremendous jolt when the rear vehicle tail-ended the Stratus.

Gibbs battled fiercely to control the sedan, skilfully avoiding a side-on collision with a Toyota that had been cruising in the adjacent lane. A harsh horn blast emanated from it as its driver had to brake and swerve suddenly. Again the Tahoe struck the back of their sedan, Annie screamed involuntarily, McGee attempted to get the vehicle's licence but, as was expected, it had either been removed or was knocked off in the series of shunts. "Hold on, Gibbs instructed as he floored the accelerator, putting a little distance between the two vehicles. He needed to get off the highway. An exit loomed half a mile ahead, but the traffic was getting thicker as they approached the exit. The Tahoe kept pace with its target, occasionally striking the sedan's battered bodywork before Gibbs was able to manoeuvre out of its pursuer's path.

The slipway entrance was getting nearer, but Gibbs was still in the outside lane, the Tahoe just inches from striking once more. With great agility, Gibbs veered across all the commuter choked lanes, much to the disapproval of the vehicles he'd cut-up. Waved fists, honked horns and, McGee was pretty certain, the accentuated use of uncomplimentary language was being cast in their direction. The Tahoe driver attempted to follow, even knocking one car so hard it spun around 90 degrees and blocked one lane of upcoming traffic.

The Stratus clipped the emergency crash drums filled with water and Gibbs fought in vain to prevent his vehicle careering out of control. His passengers were being tossed around inside of the vehicle like soft toys going through a spin cycle in a washing machine as the vehicle rolled once, twice, and eventually came to rest with its passenger side uppermost. Steam clouds hissed from beneath the crumpled chassis as the Tahoe merged into the steady flow of traffic heading east.

Onlookers slowed to gawk at the battered sedan lying on its side, only interested in the damage caused rather that looking to see if its occupants were unharmed. McGee was the first to regain consciousness, aware that someone was pulling on his jacket. Distant voices unscrambled themselves as his mind slowly unfogged and he realised two passers-by were trying valiantly to extricate him from the upturned wreckage. Gibbs moaned as he lifted his head from the seatbelt where it precariously hammocked. Blood oozed from a cut across his left temple and snaked its way down his face. He blinked hard in an effort to steady the world that still spun in front of his eyes; then he remembered, Annie… Gibbs tried to turn around to check on her, but with McGee still on top of him it was impossible.

"Can you see Annie?" he asked with considerable concern.

"She's laying face down, boss. I think she's unconscious."

The emergency services had been called to the incident, their sirens growing stronger by the second. The fire department were there first on the scene and quickly began to under take the job of freeing the three trapped occupants after the leaking gasoline was prevented from igniting by a thick layer of fire retardant foam. A trained paramedic climbed in through one of the shattered windows and checked each of the casualties for injuries.

"How is she?" Gibbs called to the paramedic behind him.

"She's unconscious, but as far as I can tell there are no broken bones. What's her name?"

"Annie, Annie Jordan." Gibbs answered somewhat relieved.

McGee had been freed and was now discussing the whole incident with one of the uniformed police officers that had arrived at the scene, whilst maintaining a close eye on what was happening with the rescue.

Inside the vehicle Annie began to come around. Her initial reaction was to struggle against the paramedic who was attempting to make her lay still. By now other EMT's had arrived and had begun to assist with the treatment of the injured occupants.

"Annie, take it easy. My name is Dan," soothed the paramedic as his patient resisted his help. "You've been in an accident. We just need to make sure you are okay before we get you out of here."

Annie took a moment for these words to penetrate, her mind seemed to be working some twenty seconds behind the rest of the world, only then did she stop struggling against the hand that was holding her back and acknowledge that she was injured. A searing pain radiated up her left arm causing her to take a sharp intake of breath. Dan witnessed Annie's difficulty in breathing and gently felt around her ribcage.

"I think you have a fractured rib which has punctured your lung. We need to get you to hospital so we can re-inflate it and enable you to breathe more easily. Do you understand?"

Annie nodded silently, somewhat shocked by the paramedic's diagnosis.

With additional help, Dan eased Annie from the upturned vehicle leaving Gibbs the last to be pulled from the wreckage.

Once again Gibbs, Annie and McGee were speeding along the traffic choked streets, the only difference this time was that they were in an ambulance heading toward hospital.

As Annie's gurney was escorted into the ER the accompanying EMT's related their findings to the doctors and nurses on duty.

"RTA; three casualties. This is Annie Jordan, rear passenger, unconscious when first arrived at the scene. Injuries include pneumo-thorax on left side and possible fractured Tibia/Fibula. BP 130 over 80."

Gibbs was next to be wheeled through, although he tried to convince the medical staff he was capable of walking, they had insisted he lay still and do as he was told. McGee, who's only injury was a diagonal bruise from his right shoulder down to his left hip where the seatbelt had done its job and held him in his seat, walked in alongside his boss. Gibbs instructed him to call Dinozzo and get their car taken back to the lab so Abby could collect the trace evidence.

McGee, who was sat outside the trauma room, suddenly stood as Gibbs emerged with a couple of stitches to a gash across his right temple and minor powder burns from where the car's airbag had deployed.

"Are you okay, boss?" McGee stammered.

"Where's Annie?"

"Tony's with her, along the hall."

Gibbs looked incredulously at his junior agent and strode off along the hall.

In Annie's room, Tony was attempting to charm her with his self-assured ego and wit.

"Do you know that, over the past years, Gibbs has begun to depend on me to guide the junior members of the team through some of the most cryptic and baffling of cases? Even now, as he is lying in his hospital bed, I have got this case to within a cat's whisker of being busted wide open!"

At that precise moment Tony felt a sharp flick to the back of his head and he knew instantly that Gibbs was stood behind him and had probably heard every word he had said.

Annie smiled. She knew that Tony was only flirting with her, and in some ways, it had made her feel better, but she couldn't help notice the funny side of the whole episode, even if it did hurt her to laugh.

"How are you Agent Gibbs?" Annie asked noting the large dressing across his brow.

"I'm fine, but what about you?" Gibbs replied as he spotted the plastic tube from her abdomen blow bubbles into a container of what looked like water.

"Not too bad, considering what I have been through over the past few days!" she grinned. "But I'm not yet weakened enough to succumb to Agent Dinozzo's charm!"

Gibbs shook his head and grinned. Annie was a woman after his own heart…

"Give me what you've got, Tony."

Dinozzo flicked through several of the pages of his notebook before recounting his findings. "I pulled the files on Michelle Carlson's investigation; seems like the local LEO's treated it as your basic hit and run, but evidence and witness statements suggest that the vehicle was parked less that half a block away and only moved when Michelle exited Wilkes Deliveries on 53rd and Main."

"So, whoever it was driving, was waiting for her…You said she came out of a courier service?"

"Yeah."

"Get me a warrant. I want to know what she was sending and to whom!"

"On it boss. Ohh, and Ducky said he has got something for you too," Tony called over his right shoulder as he began to make the call to get the warrant.

Wilkes Deliveries was obviously a thriving business. At least a dozen sorters in pale blue uniforms stood next to a row of pallet boxes containing parcels of different shapes and sizes, identifying the postal location and 'posting' them into corresponding pigeon-holes and down chutes ready for delivery.

A middle aged gentleman with salt and pepper hair and a mild paunch carrying a brown clipboard approached the front counter and offered his assistance.

"Thank you for choosing Wilkes Deliveries, how can I help you gentlemen?"

"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS," Gibbs flashed his ID and read the nametag of the employee offering his services. "Zak, we have reason to believe that a parcel was posted here…"

"No kidding, we only have about six hundred a day!"

Gibbs continued unfazed by Zak's sarcasm. "It would have been brought in eight days ago; we want to see the records."

"Sorry, not without a warrant, I can't let you see confidential documents."

"Got one right here." Tony extended the folded paper signed by Judge Ellis permitting them total disclosure.

"What's the name?" Zak asked somewhat reluctantly.

"We don't know the name of the recipient, but it was sent by a Michelle Carlson."

Zak tapped away on the keyboard just behind the counter. "An unusual request on that account. The package had a deferred delivery date."

"Does that mean you still have it on site?" Tony asked.

"Nah," Zak answered indifferently. "It was sent for despatch…today."

"What's the address?" Gibbs demanded

"1157 Jefferson Avenue."

"That's Annie's apartment!" Gibbs exclaimed.

Tony and Gibbs hurried back to the car, keen to intercept the delivery before whomever it was trying to prevent them, got hold of it. Gibbs accelerated to a stop, his wounded arm jarring as the car came to an abrupt halt. Bounding up the front steps the two NCIS agents looked at each other as they noticed the front door was ajar and the sound of someone moving about within set their nerves on edge.

They drew their weapons and Gibbs silently counted down from three with his fingers. On one, Gibbs kicked the door open and the special agents scanned the apartment, their six-hours poised ready to confront any violent response to their entry.

The intruder, surprised by the dramatic entrance of the NCIS agents spun around, dropped the bundle of files and papers he was holding and dove behind the sofa.

Gibbs and Dinozzo took up defensive positions behind items of furniture and announced their identity requesting that the intruder 'give themselves up'.

A shot ricocheted through a vase that stood close to Tony's head. Instinctively, he ducked down and thanked his guardian angel for his narrow escape. In the meantime Gibbs took the opportunity to fire a single round that left the intruder oozing blood from the wound in his chest onto the cream carpet.

Cautiously, Gibbs and Dinozzo edged forward, ready to discharge their weapons once more should the intruder continue to violently resist their authority.

The intruder lay writhing on the carpet grasping his right shoulder where Gibbs' bullet had found its' mark. Still with their weapons aimed at their aggressor Gibbs kicked away the Gloch and demanded to know who he was and why he had broken into Annie's apartment as Tony pulled their assailant's arms around his back and handcuffed his wrists together.

The man just sneered at Gibbs but said nothing.

"Boss, there's the black Tahoe," Tony nodded toward the semi-concealed four wheel drive some 50 feet from Annie's apartment as they exited the building. Gibbs moved toward the vehicle and noted the flecks of blue paint across the front fender and right wheel arch. 'Transfer from our Stratus,' he mused to himself as he acknowledged that he now had enough evidence to charge his prisoner with several counts of attempted murder, including himself – twice!

The interrogation room at NCIS headquarters exuded tension between the two people that were within. Gibbs had run a check on his prisoner and discovered that his name was Daryl Staines a former bodyguard and general 'scumbag'.

"What was the reason for you being in Annie Jordan's apartment?" Gibbs began.

"I'm not saying anything without my lawyer," stated Staines.

Gibbs took a slug from his cup of coffee house brew and composed himself. He knew he'd get his answers it would just be a matter of time.

"We know all about Nathan Hardy, that's who you have been working for isn't it?"

Staines was momentarily surprised by this statement, he hadn't even considered that the NCIS could have worked out whom his boss was, yet he tried to hide the recognition, unfortunately it was all too late.

Dinozzo entered the room adjacent to the interrogation room and requested Gibbs' presence. With a slight twist of his head and subtle smile Gibbs left Daryl Staines and joined his colleague.

"Hey boss," Dinozzo greeted. "The parcel arrived and I bet you can't guess what was in it…"

Gibbs was ahead of Tony as usual. "It's a phial of a mystery yellow liquid, which, if you send to Abby she'll be able determine that it is the vanishing PX 95 sent by Michelle Carlson to the one person she could trust."

"You know," Tony reflected "I really hate it when you do that!"

Gibbs smiled "You think! Time to visit Nathan Hardy once more. C'mon Tony." His cell rang as he entered the elevator.

"Hey Gibbs," it was Abby. "The Gloch you sent down, I've managed to match the bullets to the two that killed a chemical technician working in the ChemTech building from four months ago."

"Great work Abby, we're just on our way over there."

"Oh, er, I think there is something else you should know then."

"What's that? Abs???"

"Erm, Annie went over there about fifteen minutes ago." Abby didn't hear any of the expletives Gibbs was about to shout down the phone line as she took her headset off and returned to her forensic experiments.

This was news that Gibbs had not wanted to hear. He had not expected Annie to be quite so ambitious during the investigation, but he should have and reprimanded himself accordingly.

Gibbs didn't wait to be signed in to the ChemTech building this time, he just ran to the elevator and pressed the button to the eighth floor, closely followed by both Tony and McGee. The receptionist's calls to halt their progress were about as effective as a chocolate teapot! During the ride in the elevator, Gibbs double checked his six-hour ensuring the weapon was fully loaded and ready for action.

The elevator doors 'pinged' open, announcing they had arrived at their floor. Outside, the corridor and possibly the entire floor seemed devoid of employees or visitors, only muffled noises could be heard coming from the office at the end of the hallway – Nathan Hardy's office.

Cautiously, the three agents moved toward their mark, clearing the offices as they advanced. The external door to Hardy's office was ajar allowing Gibbs to hear the conversation within much clearer.

"…so you decided to involve NCIS, that was a very silly thing to do Miss Jordan."

"You didn't think that I'd let you get away with stealing the PX 95 and sell it to the highest bidder without getting my cut of the profits, did you Nathan? You shouldn't have had your pathetic henchman try to 'terminate' our little contract. Now I have got those navy cops helping me to get the formula, which by my reckoning should be about now."

Gibbs closed his eyes. He had been duped again by a pretty woman who had been out to get only for herself, and the one thing that Gibbs really could not bear, was someone who would do anything for self gain including sell out their own country. Dinozzo and McGee had heard everything too. They knew exactly how their boss would take this news, and it wouldn't be pleasant!

Gibbs silently indicated to Tony and McGee that they were about to enter the office to the right and Gibbs would cover the left. On the count of three the NCIS agents stormed into the office. Hardy was stood behind his desk, reaching into his uppermost drawer; Annie was in front, semi-leaning across the solid oak divide, a look of sheer aggression apparent on her face.

"NCIS!" announced Gibbs. "Put you hands on your heads and turn around to face me."

"Oh Gibbs, thank god you got here in time. I caught Hardy about to leave the country with over two million dollars he'd made from the sale of the PX95," Annie sighed.

"Yup, we got him, and his accomplice."

"Yeah, you got Staines too."

"That's right, but he wasn't the one who instigated the whole operation, doesn't have the brains."

"Well that would be Hardy," Annie stated.

"Nope." Gibbs moved forward toward Annie, a pair of handcuffs in his hands.

With everyone's attention focused upon Annie and Gibbs' conversation, Hardy took his chance. He reached into his drawer and pulled out an automatic pistol. Tony was the first to react, firing two bullets, McGee, too, put a bullet into the chest of the ChemTech boss, but not before Hardy was able to fire off a single round hitting Annie Jordan in the side of the head, killing her instantly. Gibbs had knocked her to the ground, but in doing so, he was lucky not to be the one with his brains spread across the hardwood flooring. He looked into Annie's deep brown eyes and wondered if anything she had told him had been true.

The mood in the bull pen was much as it was normally that afternoon. Dinozzo was giving McGee a hard time about being the 'proby' whilst fantasising over what Agent Farrell would look like in a bikini; McGee was tapping away on his computer keyboard writing up his reports and investigating the pro's and con's of a new piece of software he had downloaded from the web. Gibbs sat at his desk and sipped away at his super-crude coffee as he mused over the past few days. On his desk was a small oblong package, carefully wrapped in a black ribbon. It was from Abby. The senior agent pulled off the bow and unwrapped the contents. Abby knew just how to brighten his mood, even though she seemed to feed upon the gruesome and demonic as a Goth, but her heart was pure – she had bought him a new rasp for the boat he has been building in his basement. Gibbs smiled.

By Holstered .38

15th April, 2006.

24


End file.
